Tag Archives: Parent child

Meaning and Metaphor: Dispatches from the Front Line of an Illness and Disability

I have to confess to being somewhat neglectful in my blog posting of late. The truth of the matter is that having a close family member with cancer for a while became all consuming, our family has had its normal rhythm disrupted. Several weeks ago I came across an article in The Times about the different metaphors we use to describe illness. These it seemed were most often to do with war. I think for the individual affected by serious illness the war metaphors can become both descriptive and prescriptive, many people have described my mum as tough and a fighter. Both are true of her and in many ways appropriate as she attacks life in general with a type of military precision I have found nowhere else in civilian life. I believe it was Christopher Hitchens objected to this type of description, he felt that cancer was attacking him, not that he was battling the disease. I suppose having a positive mental attitude can improve your quality of life, but I am not sure how much impact it has on the progression of the disease.

Spending a lifetime living in this order and routine I now feel adrift, when cancer a strongly disruptive force unexpectedly landed in my wider family life. The strangest thing was that many things carried on as normal. Cancer is a word that makes you stop and take an involuntary deep breath, the surprise comes when you breath out and and find that all other aspects of life are the same, life it seems still happens. The paperwork generated by my disability, normally so deftly filed by my mother has piled up meaning that my once ascetically pleasing work top has all but become engulfed. For several weeks I felt like I was camping out in my own life, just as when you are on holiday, you get to the hotel, live out of suitcases and experience and do things you would not normally do, so to with the wider family experience of illness.

My life has been ordered and routinised by virtue of the assistance I require in order to live. Every day of my life has its own structure, different activity and mini plan. Cancer has disrupted things on every level. So used to being the subject of medical intervention myself it felt like an odd kind of out of body experience to watch it from another perspective. People are always telling me how much I sound like my mum, now I catch myself thinking she sounds like me. She uses medical lingo like a pro and would rival some of my friends from my special school days, comfortably using terms like PIC line and spiking a temperature. For all my adult life my mum has served me well as a clothing mannequin, while shopping she would try outfits against her body to see if the trousers would be too short as we are the same height. I never thought this role would reverse in the form of the loan of my spare wheelchair and pressure relief cushion, the latter becoming necessary because of a serious reduction in body mass.

We have a deeper and in some way better understanding of each other, perhaps that can only come via a shared experience. I have learned to be less idealistic and judgmental of those who make choices for loved ones based on the information given at the time, and we both know well that medicine can be both miraculous and cruel, tearing to the depths of ones soul on both counts.

Recently I was struck by media reaction to statistics that indicated that over 50 percent of woman and 43 percent of man took a drug that was prescribed to them, most “popular” were pain killers, cholesterol medication and antidepressants. The inference being that we could do without these if we just shaped up and pulled ourselves together. It saddens me greatly that even in the 21st Century it can be inferred that to experience mental ill-heath is a negative lifestyle choice that should be discouraged. Yes such drugs are costly, but like treatments for cancer and heart disease they save many lives and improve the quality of those lives.

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